


To travel along until we are reaching the river.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Sunflower's Seijou week [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Day 6, Gen, Seijou Week, history of japan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru is so many things.</p><p>He is a name, he is a setter, he is a person. <br/>Most of all, he is loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To travel along until we are reaching the river.

Oikawa, 及川, meaning ‘Reaching the River’.  
Tooru, 徹, meaning ‘To Travel Along’.

To some people, this was all Oikawa was, if they were to judge him by his name. It was written in the interview he had with Volleyball Monthly, and it was the first thing people picked up from the mention of his name along. They would half-joke that it fitted him, because of his strong determination to reach a certain point, but the laidback attitude he exhibited in front of the general public. Hence, ‘To Travel Along’, as if it was a leisurely cruise towards his success in volleyball. 

Aobajousai volleyball team knew otherwise. They saw the sweat clinging to his skin, soaking his uniform as the large 1 on his bag clung to his skin. They saw the grimace when he over practiced, tried to talk him off the court and convince him to rest before Iwaizumi physically dragged him away. They saw the loss carved into his features after each game, each season, the way he seemed to age and the skin creasing around his eyes as his fists clenched and jaw tightened. 

Seijou saw Oikawa Tooru for the stubborn, resolute captain he was, constantly striving for self-improvement and victory. There was, however, another side they saw to him. The idiot who was currently lying on the floor and whining because he didn’t get into the June edition of Volleyball Monthly.

“Umm... Senpai...?”

“Leave him, Kindaichi. He’ll get over it.” 

“Okay...” The first year was still mildly concerned, but allowed Hanamaki to steer him back to practice and away from their moping setter. The third and second years carried on as if this was completely normal, and even Kunimi was wholly disinterested. Oikawa whined and folded his arms, making a dramatic point of lifting his body up to shuffle closer to a volleyball and then drop back down on it as if it were a pillow. A very hard, bouncy pillow that rolled in all directions. His head slipped and hit the ground, but all he did was give a huff of disappointment and stay in this new position.

“Oikawa-Senpai, we’re doing spiking practice. If you don’t come and join in, Watari will play as setter.” The gentle tone in Yahaba’s voice didn’t betray the mild threat. If Oikawa didn’t get up and participate _now_ , without sulking, he was going to be ignored for the rest of practice. Still, he refused to give in until someone gave him sympathy. Surely one of the first years would cave eventually... His pout deepened and brow furrowed as Yahaba just picked up the nearby volleyball he had previous been using as a pillow and walked off.

“Mean...” He muttered to himself before grabbing the latest edition of Volleyball Monthly and opening it to a random page before spreading it over his head like a fort. His breath ruffled the pages, but he didn’t particularly care. At some point, a deviant spike whacked into his backside and he grunted. Matsukawa came over to collect his ball, rolling his eyes at the setter’s sorry state. 

“You know, Iwaizumi is going to be furious with you afterwards.” Oikawa looked up at his fellow third year with an unusually despondent expression.

“I really thought I was gonna get in this time, Mattsun... I thought I was still good enough...” Matsukawa frowned deeply, crouching down and gently brushing Oikawa’s fringe out of his eyes.

“You _are_ good enough. There’s just... Some other things that have to be covered too. Hey, maybe in July, you’ll get a double page spread.” Oikawa’s lips twitched up just the slightest, life returning to his eyes.

“Well, it is my birth month.” Matsukawa snorted and rolled his eyes, offering Oikawa a hand up.

“C’mon, loser. We’ve got practice to do.” Oikawa took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, shuffling over to the court and apologising for his behaviour in an uncharacteristically sheepish way. Soft smiles and forgiving gazes met his apology before Watari passed him the ball and moved away from the setter position. Oikawa didn’t hesitate to bound into position, a huge grin threatening to split his face. From behind him, Matsukawa and Hanamaki high-fived. 

Oikawa Tooru was more than just a whiny kid who went into a sulk every so often, though. He was more than just a name, and more than just an idol. He spent his Sundays inside, mostly, especially in the summer. The heat was killer, one of those days where the horizon was blurry and water was the most precious thing on earth. Draped across his bed in blue shorts and a white shirt that had ridden up, Oikawa lightly wafted a paper-folded fan over his face. Even the air conditioning in his room seemed useless, sweat sticking to every inch of his body and his breathing heavy. 

“Iwa-chan... Iwa-chan, I’m melting...” From the floor, the Ace grunted. He was in no better condition, perhaps even worse, spread like a starfish in loose tracksuit pants and a black sleeveless shirt. Oikawa felt warmer even _looking_ at him, turning his nose up.

“I told you to buy more colours than just black for your wardrobe.” A weak middle finger was shakily thrown in his direction before it dropped back to the floor. Iwaizumi’s breathing was laboured, his skin on fire and sweating like crazy. With a sigh, Oikawa dragged himself from his bed despite the heat. He went over to the wardrobe and pulled out some spare clothes, shorts that no longer reached his knees, and a cream button-up, very thin material that wouldn’t soak up so much sunlight. He dropped them over Iwaizumi’s face.

“Get changed, Iwa-chan! I’ll be back with some ice and water.” Oikawa paused in the bedroom doorway until he heard shuffling that suggested Iwaizumi was following his instructions, then clicked the door shut and plodded down the stairs. (Usually, he was far too elegant for this, but the summer heat was record breaking.)

“Mummyyyyyy. We need ice...” His mother peered over her shoulder from where she was at the kitchen counter, preparing lunch.

“You know where it is, Tooru.” He gargled out nonsense and pressed his forehead against the closest surface as he retrieved the bag of ice from the freezer. Luckily, it was already open, because it felt _too damn hot_ to wrestle open a bag. His mother had placed two plastic cups on the counter, and already filled them with water.

“Thank you~.” He deposited three ice cubes in each, before clutching the bag of ice to his chest in a fleeting moment to cool himself for the walk upstairs. If the cups had been made of glass, they most certainly would have slipped from his sweaty palms. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he managed to get back to his room and safely put one cup down next to Iwaizumi before slinking back over to bed and pretty much collapsing.

“It’s... Too... Hot...” Another grunt from Iwaizumi. He still hadn’t moved towards the water, and had pulled the shorts up lazily as if he didn’t want to wear them. The shirt was untouched as Iwaizumi just lay there shirtless. Oikawa’s brow furrowed in concern. His friend was usually more irritable, more fidgety in summer. He _never_ lay around doing nothing, and he never suffered this much. The only thing Oikawa could think of was that Iwaizumi was dehydrated. It made sense, with the amount he had been sweating. He sipped at his own drink, licking the moisture off his lips and sighing in relief before dropping to the floor once more on all fours.

“Iwa-chan... You have to drink. You’re going to pass out.” He nudged Iwaizumi’s shoulder, receiving a lower, quieter grunt. Oikawa huffed.

“Okay, we’re doing this the hard way then.” He moved to kneel behind Iwaizumi, then yanked him upwards so that the black, greasy and damp hair was pressed against his chest. Oikawa held back a scoff of disgust, or a yelp at the temperature difference. Because he was hot, but Iwaizumi was _boiling_. Biting his bottom lip in worry, he raised the cup of ice water to Iwaizumi’s lips.

“Come on, Iwa-chan. You’re really dehydrated, you need this.” Relief flooded him like a cool wave when his best friend started to gulp down the water, Oikawa tilting the cup to control the flow so he didn’t end up choking on it. He pulled the cup away when it was half-empty, placing it back down on the floor.

“Thanks...” It was groggy and croaky, but the gratitude was more than enough for Oikawa. Gently, he pushed Iwaizumi across the floor until he was in the spot where the air conditioning was strongest. Because Oikawa Tooru was more than just a name, a sulking brat, a hard-working setter with self esteem issues. He was a friend, a good one, and someone who cared deeply for the people important to him. He had a bad personality at times, certainly, but when he cared, he had a heart of gold that took up most of his persona.

Sometimes, Oikawa was callous and cruel. His bad personality was never more prominent than when it game to geniuses, those with gifted talent that didn’t need to train hard for a win. He hated Ushijima with a passion, due to their history of competition and defeat. He hated Kageyama the absolute most _ever_ , because he was this genius kid who strolled into middle school one day and threatened to take his position. How dare he... _How **dare** he?!_

Oikawa was bitter, but after being lectured by Iwaizumi, he was only nasty from a distance. That changed drastically when he watched the Kitagawa match at nationals. When he saw how poorly Kageyama was treating his teammates. He didn’t blame the rest of the team for refusing to hit the ball that could have saved the set. His hatred for Kageyama had increased at that point.

“I’m Kunimi Akira, Wing Spiker. I prefer the ball set closer to the net and quite low. Please take care of us.”

“K-Kindaichi Yuutaro! I- I like the ball high, b-but I’m not very good, especially at quicks. U- Umm! I’m a Middle Blocker! Please look after us!” The first years had bowed at their introduction to the team, and Oikawa had boiled over with rage, with hatred. Kageyama had taken these two and _crushed_ them, in spirit and confidence. 

He saw the hesitation in Kunimi’s eyes, the telltale sign that he was only here because it was compulsory to join a club and he was used to volleyball. He saw and heard the way Kindaichi doubted himself, the way he _put himself down_ because Kageyama had made him believe he wasn’t good enough. Oikawa took a deep breath in to control himself, then broke into a smile.

“Let’s play a good game and see how you do, ne~?” Seeing as only these two first years had made first string, Oikawa drafted in the older members. He made sure Yahaba, Watari, and Kunimi were on the same team. Their gentleness and soft enthusiasm would hopefully encourage him and help him find that love of volleyball once more. He took Kindaichi by the wrist and practically dragged him over to the side with himself and Hanamaki. With a half-pout, he shook the first year by the shoulders.

“Don’t ever say you’re not good at something! If you feel that way, it just means you haven’t practiced it enough. We’re going to do quicks over and over again until you feel confident enough to whack them into outer space!” Oikawa ignored Hanamaki’s interjection of how that was impossible, watching Kindaichi’s face twist with internal debate before he managed a small nod and an ‘okay’. Once more, Oikawa felt a fire of rage consuming him as he thought ‘Kageyama did this. Kageyama destroyed his confidence.’ 

Back when they’d been in middle school and Oikawa had been captain then, he’d instantly singled Kindaichi out of the new recruits. It was the way he carried himself, the bold faced enthusiasm and daring attitude that made Oikawa instantly think _“This boy will be an Ace.”_ He hadn’t been entirely wrong. Kindaichi had trained hard with Iwaizumi, the current ace at the time, and learnt so much about how to hit the ball, how to control it and steer it, how to cross spike instead of just straights. Oikawa had gone back to see their matches as a first year in Aobajousai, surprised to see Kindaichi in the Middle Blocker position. But he definitely hadn’t been surprised to see Kageyama as the setter.

He had, however, been _outraged_ at how difficult Kageyama made it to hit the ball. With every missed spike, Oikawa felt like like storming down there and grabbing him by the collar, yelling at him to play properly and stop being a _fucking self serving **genius**_. He wanted to throttle the young Kageyama. Before Oikawa could give in to his urge, Kindaichi had whirled around on the court and shouted something at him, too quiet for the audience to hear but loud enough for the referee. He was given a caution and Oikawa scowled as he gripped the metal bar in front of him. There was no need for that! Kindaichi had been doing the right thing!

Now, in the present, all that confidence and daring attitude had gone. He was cautious, far too careful. Oikawa couldn’t help but feel that poisonous wrath towards Kageyama as Kindaichi hit a quick ball, surprise coating his features. Too long, he’d been forced into straining to hit the ball, stretching in desperation just to have his fingers brush the volleyball out of reach. To _actually_ hit a quick, he looked stupefied. 

“Nice quick, Kindaichi-chan~! See, you’re really good at them!” 

“I- I don’t know, Senpai. It must’ve been a fluke. Quicks are- are too fast.” Oikawa didn’t realise how enraged he was as he snarled, putting his hands on Kindaichi’s shoulders and gripping tight enough to dig his nails in through the material. 

“O-Oi! Oikawa!” Hanamaki reached out to grab Oikawa’s wrist, but paused when the close movement only caused Oikawa to grip tighter. When Kindaichi winced, he suddenly realised he was hurting the newcomer and softened his hold, breathing out to try and calm his anger. 

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Listen here. You are _not_ ‘not very good’. That was _not_ a fluke, and quicks are _not_ too fast for you. Whatever Kageyama made you believe, I want you to erase it.” He saw the same temper flicker in Kindaichi’s eyes, feeling a smirk coming on when he concluded that Kindaichi hated Kageyama just as much as he did.

“You’re going to be a great middle blocker. Honestly, you could have been an Ace one day, but this position suits your height. Quicks are going to be so easy for you, and as your setter, I’m going to put them where you hit best. It’s not about the speed of the ball, it’s not about the setter getting past the blockers. It’s about _you_ , taking that ball from optimum height and distance to the net, and **slamming** it straight through the block if it appears in front of you. Kageyama is not your setter anymore. You don’t have to fear missing the ball.” 

“S-Senpai...” Kindaichi’s fists clenched at his side, eyes scrunching closed and nose creasing as he fought back emotional tears. He stood straighter, held himself taller, more confident than Oikawa had seen in two years. 

“Osu!” From the other side of the net, Kunimi had a small smile too, just noticeable enough for someone observant. Oikawa felt his anger fading, placated by the fact that he could save them both, could give them back their love for volleyball with no qualms. 

On a beautiful winter Wednesday, when snow fell softly outside the window, Oikawa sat by the window and looked out of them in a mature appreciation for the magnificence of nature. Everything felt at peace, as he curled his hands around a mug of hot chocolate, the steam swirling into the air. 

“That’s going to go cold, you know?” He tore his gaze away from the window to look at Yahaba. The team had gathered together for a study session at Yahaba’s house, mainly to help Matsukawa, Hanamaki, and Kyoutani. Being in classes 1 or 3, they were already expected to do badly on exams, and Coach had threatened a practice ban on anyone who graded less that 70% on their final exams. On _any_ subject.

“It’s still too hot to drink, Yahaba-chan~. You have to wait until it stops steaming!”

“If you say so.” The second year readjusted his grip on a pile of books that came up to his mid-chest before approaching the studious group.

“These are all the textbooks I have for Japanese history.” Matsukawa gave low groan, echoed by Hanamaki’s much louder cry of anguish. Kyoutani didn’t make a sound, but that was because he was currently engaged in science, with Iwaizumi tutoring him by his side. That seemed to have been the wisest choice, because he was actually paying attention instead of taking a nap or refusing to study. Oikawa exhaled slowly as he swept his gaze over the room, finding it _hilarious_ that the underclassmen were tutoring their Senpai. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way round? 

“Can’t we take a break?”

“A break would be nice.” Yahaba huffed and dropped the books on the table in front of Hanamaki and Matsukawa with a ‘thud’ that startled Kyoutani. He only growled lightly before Iwaizumi cuffed him round the back of the head and ordered him to _“concentrate, you almost had it.”_

“No, we are not taking breaks. Matsukawa-Senpai, you only got 23% on the mock test yesterday! Hanamaki-Senpai may have gotten 44%, but that still guarantees a practice ban!” 

“Yeah, but who’s the one that got 9%?” They sent smirking face towards Kyoutani, whom almost snapped his pen in half. Kindaichi, sat between Hanamaki and Iwaizumi, scrambled backwards milliseconds before a hand shot across the table and grabbed Hanamaki’s collar.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not stupid. I just didn’t want to do it.” Oikawa almost laughed when he heard Iwaizumi sigh as if he was about to give up, Yahaba squawking that there would be no fighting in his house, and Kunimi asking if his presence was really necessary. Watari blinked as he re-rented the room, having nipped to the toilet.

“... Did I miss something?” The innocent comment set Oikawa off, drawing all attention to him as he laughed on the seat by the window. Matsukawa flicked a pencil towards him and Iwaizumi threw and entire book, but Oikawa couldn’t help laughing all the same. He wiped away a tear of joy as he calmed.

“What’s so funny, Kusokawa?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry~! I was just thinking about how much I love you guys~.” Their reactions differed, as much as night and day. Kyoutani looked like he was ready to throw a fist in Oikawa’s direction, outraged that anyone would use such a _soft, sentimental_ term in reference to him. Yahaba had a small smile that twitched at the corners, like he was considering giving into the irritation he felt towards Oikawa for distracting their study session. Kunimi paused with half a pocky hanging out his mouth, clearly shocked by the claim. Had he never been told he was loved before? Oikawa silently vowed to say it more often. Kindaichi was absolutely ecstatic, brimming with a proud energy that made him appear to shine. Watari smiled brightly too, but more on a scale that returned the affection. Matuskawa and Hanamaki fake gagged.

“Mad gay.”

“That’s the gayest level you’ve reached, Oikawa.” 

“Sh- Shut up! I take it back! You two are jerks!” They laughed at his response, dodging the pencil he launched back at them and the book that followed. Oikawa turned his eyes to Iwaizumi and his face fell. Iwaizumi looked... Sad. Like he was about to lose everything in front of him. Technically, that was true. They had a matter of weeks left, and then it was off to big-boy independent universities. Before anyone else could catch on to the expression, he hid his face behind a book and brought Kyoutani back to his attention. 

“Here, let’s carry on from this point. So when you combine a Carbon atom with Oxygen, there are multiple possible outcomes for how it bonds. Identify which of these diagrams is the most stable.” 

“... C?”

“Are you guessing?” Kyoutani nodded, chewing on the pen lid. Iwaizumi sighed and rubbed at his temples.

“Okay, look at it this way; Carbon makes how many bonds?”

“... Four.”

“Which of these diagrams has four bonds?” 

“A. That’s... Carbon dioxide, right?” Iwaizumi nodded with a soft grin, patting Kyoutani on the back. 

"That’s right. See? You know this stuff, you just need to take time to think about it.” Oikawa sipped more at his hot chocolate, wondering if perhaps, Iwaizumi was making it too easy for the second year. Like a mum or something. He snickered into his drink, drawing Yahaba’s attention with a deadpan gaze.

“Oikawa-Senpai, if you’re going to make so much noise, at least make yourself useful and help these idiots.” Those ‘idiots’, being Matsukawa and Hanamaki, didn’t even bother to deny it, just looking towards Oikawa with ghastly puppy dog eyes. 

“Eurgh. Alright, alright. What’re you s’posed to be doing?”

“Japanese history.” Oikawa put down his mug to come over to their sides with a thoughtful hum.

“Yahaba-chan, do you have any toys anywhere?”

“I have five younger siblings. What do you think?” Oikawa gave him a look and Yahaba sighed, walking off upstairs to go and fetch as many as his arms could carry. He knew exactly what Oikawa was going to do. Pretend the toys were important historical figures and ‘present’ the lesson to Hanamaki and Matsukawa. He came back down to a quiet, calm living room. The only speech was intelligible studies, Kunimi helping Kindaichi across the table, the two swapping their weakest subjects with Watari interjecting occasionally to put in a point that would get them extra marks. Oikawa lay backwards on the floor, holding a book above his head at arm’s length to recap and review the subject he was about to teach.

“So... At this point, you have the Shogun in Shogunate, and the Emperor in Kyoto, but just so you know, the Shogun is actually in control. Mainly cus the Samurai are super strong – like me – and the government are lame artsy people who are too busy making paintings to govern.” Snickers of amusement arose from around the table. Yahaba sighed as he brought the toys over, and Oikawa quickly used one of Kato’s samurai warrior toys, and one of Chihara’s kokeshi dolls.

“So this is the Emperor, who is now a kokeshi doll because we were never taught his name. THIS.” He placed the samurai doll on an impromptu map of Japan that Kunimi must have sketched out, roughly where Tokyo was.

“This is the shogun, Minamoto Yoritomo, in Shogunate, circa 1185! So his family rules for a long time, and in 1274, the Mongols invaded!” Oikawa moved a bunch of Daruma dolls across from the border of what must have been China and Korea.

“But, they died in a typhoon. Then, in 1281, they tried again! And then died in a typhoon.” Hanamaki couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering his hand with his mouth as he took notes of this, literally writing down what Oikawa was saying. The captain looked far too happy, like he was genuinely playing with toys instead of tutoring his teammates. 

“However, the Shogunate was presumably weakened by these constant attacks. At that time, the Kamakura Shogunate appointed its own shugo as heads of each province, dividing our great land Yamato up and establishing an efficient national network. The Kamakura collapsed in 1333, and the Emperor overthrows them, then the Shogunate overthrows them back in 1336!” Oikawa swept the Emperor Kokeshi off the board, moving the samurai doll to Kyoto.

“The Ashikaga Shogunate, headed by Ashikaga Takauji, establishes a second line of shogunal success that _really_ kicks off in 1338. However, in 1464, there’s a tiny bit of a dilemma. The shogun at that time doesn’t have a kid, so he’s gotta find someone! Course, he asks his brother, who says ok, but then the shogun has a kid!” Oikawa moved the samurai doll off the board an replaces it with two farm animal figures, a chicken and a chick.

“See, it’s a chicken cus the brother is a cock. Remember that for your exam. Very important.” Oikawa paused as he waited for the laughter to die down.

“This is the perfect time, as states Murphy’s law, for the palace to burn down during the Onin war. The Emperor was off doing art somewhere, so he wasn’t affected, but the land fell into chaos and broke apart! Not literally. We call this Sengoku Jidai, and it took place around 1468-1472ish. Kunimi-chan, if you may?” Kunimi nodded, and with reference from a nearby book, used a pencil to faintly sketch out the territorial lines. Oikawa reached over to Kindaichi’s supply and pulled out a pack of colouring pencils, offering them around for everyone to pick a different colour. 

“Quick, claim your land!” The teenage boys broke into comical squabble as they fought over who was going to get what piece of land, colouring in their own sections with electrical energy before moving on to claim another. Oikawa grinned as he watched, wondering if any of them had caught onto the face that they were _learning_ as they went. 

“Yahaba-chan! Which land have you claimed?!”

“I got... Shimazu, Hosokawa, and Amago.”

“Kunimi-chan?”

“Shoni and Otomo... They were the closest to me.”

“Watachin?”

“Takeda and Imagawa!”

“Kyou-Ken-Chan~?”

“Asakura, Yamana, Ouchi, and Kono.”

“Iwa-chan?”

“Akamatsu, Hatakeyama, Ashikaga, Toki.”

“Kindaichi?”

“Mogami... Literally just Mogami...” He was sympathetically pat on the back, but at least he had coloured in his patch of land neatly. 

“Makki~?”

“Date and Satake, bitches! I have the most land!”

“Guess that means Mattsun got...~?” He paused as Matsukawa frowned down at the map, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Japanese history wasn’t his strong point. 

“Uesugi...? And something else. I don’t know what the last one is.” Oikawa grabbed the last colouring pencil in the packet, a brown that matched his eyes, and coloured over Matsukawa’s yellow.

“That mean I get to take over Ashina! Ha, your small piece of Yamato is mine now~!” Matsukawa scowled, but jotted down the names in his notebook. Clearing his throat, Oikawa sat back and placed a small Shogi wedge on each patch of land.

“They’re all fighting, of course. It could be any of them that takes the win and becomes the capital! In the 1570’s, there’s kind of a distraction. AKA, Europe wants to say hello. It’s mainly the Dutch. They sell loads of shit, like clocks and guns, so we have a country in turmoil already at war with each other, now fighting with guns. In 1560, Imagawa – that’s you, Watachin, - is ready to try and take over Kyoto, the capital! But first, they gotta get through Oda, which is part of Toki. Iwa-chan, prepare for battle!” Oikawa grabbed the nearby cushions, passing one to Watari and throwing the other at Iwaizumi. Both of them gained boyish grins as they moved away from the table to take their battle stances. Watari took the first hit, and then it was a flurry of beating each other with the pillows. Oikawa raised his voice to be heard over them.

“Surprise! Oda wins!”

“Well of course Oda wins. They’re represented by Iwaizumi.”

“Mattsun. Iwa-chan wasn’t _born_ in 1560. Even if he looks old.” 

“OI!” The cushion Iwaizumi had used to ‘defeat’ Watari was throw at Oikawa’s face enough to make him whine.

“Anyways! The shogun of that area is called Oda Nobunaga.” He picked up a terrifying little collectable creature, the kind of toys sold in lucky dip packets. He placed it over the area of the Oda clan before sliding it towards Kyoto with a smirk. Hanamaki clocked on almost immediately.

“So Oda takes over Kyoto?”

“Yup! In 1568! It works really well, so he’s taking over Yamato, spreading outwards, until, well, he dies. Iwa-chan~?”

“Fuck off, I’m not fake dying.”

“Such a spoilsport. Ahem! Honestly, he didn’t actually die. He’s dead, but not by natural causes. Some douche that was _supposed_ to be on his side kills him in 1582. And then the killer is killed by some guy that worked for him. ‘That guy’, is Toyotomi Hideyoshi.” Matsukawa physically perked up.

“I know this bit. He’s the guy that conquered Yamato completely!”

“Yup~. Finished the job in 1590. He set up the first real governing law, which forbid infighting and weaponry. Plus, the introduction of taxes. Urgh, I have to pay those next year...” Yahaba sighed and clapped his hands.

“You’re all getting way too into this. Are you even going to remember it all? Let’s take a break.” Kyoutani instantly flopped over backwards.

“Fucking finally.” He was once more cuffed by Iwaizumi, but not too strongly. Yahaba rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen before coming back with a bowl of snacks. Oikawa didn’t hesitate to read over the notes Matsukawa and Hanamaki had taken, smiling softly and nodding as he recognised all the important bits had been jotted down. There was no doubts they would pass their exams if they kept revising this material. Oikawa stretched leisurely before diving into the fray to fight for snacks. Yahaba’s chocolate dipped biscuits were to _die_ for.

In essence, Oikawa was whiney, a child who still sulked when he didn’t get his way. He lived by the meaning of his name, reaching the ‘river’ with determination and courage. He worked hard, constantly pushing his limits to become the volleyball player he dreamed of. He cared, worried, and loved for his friends, for his _team_. He had a bad temper that flared into hatred at the sheer thought of a specific person. He was a good tutor, patient and understanding yet taking things lightly.

Oikawa Tooru was many things. Some of them contradicting, some of them depending on the company. Above all, he was a person. Just like anyone else, he was a human. He had his flaws and negativities, just as he had his good points. Even when he couldn’t see it himself, the rest of Seijou could. They were there for him, because he was just an average human, but he was an individual. Seijou would forever love and cherish him, because he was Oikawa Tooru.


End file.
